


Barfight Honey

by Macremae



Category: Hotel Artemis (2018)
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Sex, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: Edison loses an arm, but finds something completely different in the process.





	Barfight Honey

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to Vic for letting me use sea and havi!

The thing is…

Well, the thing is that Edison isn’t dead.

She damn feels that way, truth be told. Her head is pounding like a motherfucker, every single one of her sinuses are backed up, and she can’t feel her left arm.

Son of a bitch. Edison can’t feel her left arm.

Her eyes fly open like shutters, the blurry light overhead coming into focus above her. Someone took her glasses, and she can’t see for shit without them. Around her are brown walls and cheap cotton, tucked up to her chin. The room is a blurry mix of seventies sleaze and homey comfort, with dried flowers in a vase on a gaudy-ass mahogany end table. The whole thing feels like a weird trip-- not that Edison would know anything about that.

She groans, moving her head to the right and trying to lift it. Everything feels sluggish and heavy, like moving through honey. Before she can lift herself up to a sitting position, a gentle hand on her chest stops her.

“Whoa there missy, not yet,” comes a voice. It’s low and rough, but feminine. Edison blinks.

Standing above her is a woman, greying but still there. She has sharp, piercing eyes and a motherly smile, but still looks like she could give Edison hell and then some.

“You’ve been through what I believe they call, a ‘shitstorm’. Best not to move around too much,” she continues. The woman pulls a clipboard from her bag and fingers a pen. “Now, you can call me ‘Nurse’ if you like, or something else if you don’t. I can’t really care. You mind answering a few questions?”

“Where…” Edison manages, blinking hard, “where am I?”

Nurse gives her a wane smile. “You’re at the Artemis. A friend checked you in, think it was a guy named Corona. You had a membership, so…” she shrugs. “Here you are.”

Corona. That motherfucker. Surprising he had checked her in, what with the eight year chip on his shoulder from her refusal to build him an atom bomb. He had always asked her what her moral high ground was worth.

“Nothing to you,” she had replied. “But it’s everything to me.”

Strong words from a woman currently in a hospital for the criminal elite. Edison shifts in bed, trying to get a better view of the room. “Sure,” she says gruffly, her accent thick and a little slurred. “Ask away.”

“Right. You feeling any pain?”

Edison glares at Nurse. “Lady, I nearly got my arm clean ripped off by a semi truck. What do _you_ think?”

Nurse nods down at Edison’s left arm. “I wouldn’t say nearly.”

Her eyes widen. Quickly, Edison rips off the sheet covering her arm, and gapes. It’s a small stump, wrapped in bandages all the way to her shoulder. There’s a little blood soaked through.

A cold, gnawing feeling picks it’s way down to Edison’s stomach. No wonder she couldn’t feel it. 

“Oh shit,” she murmurs, doing her best to block the tears prickling at her eyes. “That’s gonna be hard to fix.”

Nurse nods. “We have a nice line of prosthetics that’ll do for the time being. Now, any pain?”

Edison swallows hard. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “Head’s pounding like a bitch in heat, and I reckon I’ll start feeling phantom pains in a few minutes here.”

Nurse writes on her clipboard, then looks up expectantly. “Trouble breathing?”

She shakes her head. “Nah. I just ache.”

“That’s to be expected. You can push the button by your bed for another dose of meds, but I imagine you’ll want to be weaned off as soon as possible.”

Edison nods. “That’d be ideal.”

“If there’s less pain tomorrow, I’ll take the dose down. For now, it’s all about keeping you comfortable.”

“Seems awful hospitable for this place.”

Nurse frowns. “I sure hope not. The Artemis might be a little unsavory to the general public, but we try to provide the highest quality of care.”

Edison lies back, trying to ignore the numb feeling in her left side. “Save the party line, darlin’. None of us deserve that and you know it.”

“Maybe so,” she replies, rising and putting her clipboard away, “but we do our best anyway.”

She starts to walk away, but Edison raises her head. “Wait.”

Nurse turns, an eyebrow raised. “Yes?”

“What day is it?”

She smiles, her face softening just a little. “May twenty-second. Happy birthday, Ms. Edison.”

Edison fucking hates being thirty-nine.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

About three days later Edison is dying of boredom, so she clambers out of bed, drags two tables together, dumps her bag on top, and starts putting together a new arm. 

She’s got enough assorted wires and circuits floating around near the bottom to make herself a passable skeleton, but Edison’s got a little bit of pride left, so she requests some materials and a few inches of fourteen karat gold. Thank God you can get almost anything at the Artemis.

She wants to program in a couple lazers, and maybe a compression system for extra strength, but the Artemis has a no-weapons policy, so she’ll have to wait. For now, Edison spends the better part of a week piecing together a sleek, jet black arm with gold fingertips, a lightweight exterior, and all the computing capabilities that a girl could need.

It’s also during this time that she meets Nice.

Around day four of her coffee bender, the door to Edison’s room opens, and in steps the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

Nice is tall, with long dark hair that flows down her back like a frozen waterfall, and is more than likely about 90% solid leg. Her face is all sharp angles and dark eyes, and her nails are perfectly filed down to razor sharp points. She’s a gorgeous cobra: alluring, but unimaginably dangerous.

Edison’s mouth goes dry when she sees her. This is clearly a woman who could kill her faster than she could breathe, and Edison is halfway eager to see her do it.

“Hello,” says the cobra woman, her voice soft and lilting. “I’m Nice. Nurse told me to check up on you.”

“Howdy,” says Edison, and immediately begins plotting to kill herself.

“What are you working on?” she asks with a nod. Her dress is red, with a long slit up the thigh. Edison wants to simultaneously rip it off, and preserve it in a museum forever.

Edison looks away and gulps. _Don’t be weird, don’t be weird, don’t be weird--_

“Arm,” she says, her voice cracking like a teenager. Nice nods like Edison isn’t the biggest idiot in California.

“You lost yours? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She stares down at the shiny black surface. “Yeah. It’s what got me here, actually. Drop off gone wrong.”

“Dealer?”

“God, no. _Scientist_. All those gadgets you left at the door? I probably made ‘em.”

Nice takes a few steps forward, glancing over Edison’s prototype. “You’re Edison? I’ve heard of you.”

Edison gives a dry laugh. “Most people have. Half the contraband box is technically mine.” She looks up at Nice through her eyelashes. “It’s a bit of a hobby.”

Nice gives her a warm, frightening smile. “I can see that. You mind if I sit?”

Edison shrugs, as if she doesn’t care (she does, she cares so, _so_ much). Nice pulls a chair over, her elegant fingers wrapping around the back. She sits.

“So. _Edison_. Like the inventor?”

Edison snorts. “Naw, darlin’. Like the town in Georgia.”

With a raise of her eyebrow, Nice lets her gaze drift over Edison. She shivers. “No offense intended, Edison, but I have a hard time imagining you there.”

“Yeah,” she replies with a guffaw. “Not a big Chinese population, I’m afraid. One of the reasons I got out pretty early.”

Nice leans forward, resting her chin on her palm. “What were the others?”

 _Hot damn_ , Edison thinks, _a reason to be cocky_. She leans back in her chair, spreading her shoulders and puffing herself up a big. “I had a mite bigger plan for myself than fixin’ car engines for folks who swore up and down I was ‘the help’.”

She’s got no clue why she’s telling Nice all this. Maybe it’s one of those California conversations people have tried to have with her, in coffee shops off the beaten path, in hardware stores with back rooms unseen by the public, in dive bars with unsavory reputations and not a single fancy drink in sight. She supposes there’s a freedom in baring your soul to a stranger. All your secrets out with someone who you’ll never see again. But in this business, that can be what kills you.

“What about you?” she asks carefully, not wanting to startle her. Nice tilts her head a fraction of an inch.

“Algeria,” she says. “Nowhere you’d know.”

“Somewhere pretty at least?”

Nice laughs. It's a lovely sound, like rich, red velvet and warm bourbon. “At least,” she replies, and Edison senses that’s the end of it. She nods, and returns to fixing the touch sensors on her fingertips.

Nice watches for two minutes and thirty one seconds, before slipping out of the room like a ghost in the night.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

Finally, equipped with her new arm, Edison joins the rest of the patients for dinner.

The ones that arrive are a motley crew. There’s Nice, looking radiant as always in dark furs, and Nurse with a weary smile on her face. At the other end of the table is an unsavory looking man with a porn star mustache and patterned scarf, picking at his nails with a knife. His place card reads, “Acapulco”. Edison resolves to stay far, far away from him.

Sitting on either side of Acapulco are two women (at least, Edison supposes so). One is smiling softly, playing with the sleeves of their fancy, lace covered dress. She’s small and soft, with close-cropped orange hair. The other looks sour and suspicious of everyone, her grimace seeming to temper the other’s lazy demeanor. She’s tall and toned, with long blonde hair and dark eyes. Their place cards read “Seaside” and “Havana” respectively.

Edison sits down next to Seaside, curling and uncurling the fingers of her new hand. They notice, and nod at it.

“Cool arm,” they say appreciatively. “Where’d you buy it?”

“I built it, thanks,” says Edison curtly. They’re not in the mood for conversation tonight; they just want to eat and go back to bed. From across the table, Havana rolls her eyes.

“Don’t be rude, Sea,” she says quietly. She looks pointedly at the bandages still on Edison’s shoulder. 

Seaside demures a bit. “Well, it’s nice to meet you?” they try. “I’m Sea, and this is Havi.” They grin proudly. “We’re a team.”

In between them, Acapulco snorts. “Forgetting someone, love?”

Havana glares at him cooly. “No,” she says, “not really.” She sighs. “This piece of shit right here is Acapulco. He’s an arms dealer that fancies himself a king. You can punch him if you want-- everybody does.”

Acapulco flips her the bird, and Havana grabs his finger with her massive hand and bends it so far backward it nearly breaks. Acapulco yelps.

“Hey, what the hell! I was kidding!”

Edison leans away a little. “Um, no thanks,” she says warily. “I’m pretty sure there’s a no violence policy, anyway.”

“Honey, we’re criminals,” says Seaside. “Since when do we follow rules?”

“Um… yeah. So, what do y’all do?” she asks. Seaside brightens at this.

“I’m an assassin. Killer on call, if you will. I sort of jump around to different groups a lot-- better for business that way. Havi’s intimidation and interrogation, ‘cause she’s so strong. One time, she bench-pressed a guy, and he died! She’s so cool. I love her. She’s my girlfriend, by the way. Did I mention that?”

Havana blushes at this. “Why don’t you tell her our real names and birthdays too, Sea? Give everything else away?”

“It’s not a crime to be friendly. _I_ would know. Besides, she seems nice! You _are_ nice, aren’t you…” she reads the place card, “Edison?”

Off Havana’s wicked look, Edison nods. “Uh, yeah. I’d say I’m nice.”

“Cool! So… tell us about what you do! You’re the inventor, right? I think we’ve bought from you before.”

“Probably,” she replies. “I got here ‘cause of a drop off gone wrong. Got hit by a truck, and took my arm clean off. Built this sucker,” she taps her new arm, “as a replacement. Black steel alloy, fourteen karat gold fingertips, custom mechanics. I reckon I’ll add the fancy stuff once I get out of here.”

Sea’s eyes widen. “Awesome. What do you wanna put in there?”

Edison shrugs. “Can’t have y’all finding that out, now can I? Gotta keep somethin’ a surprise.”

It’s then that Nice glides over from where she was speaking to Nurse. She sits down gracefully next to Edison, who immediately feels her cheeks heat up.

“Hello ladies,” she says warmly. At Acapulco, she shoots a poisonous look. “Acapulco.”

“ _Nice_ ,” he leers, pronouncing it like “nice” instead of “niece”. “Glad to see you join us for once.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same for you. Finally crawl out of your little den to mingle with the common folk?”

“Only for you, Nice.”

“You know how my name is pronounced, Aca.”

“And so do you.”

They glare at each other over the table, the space between them crackling with tension. Edison stares down at her food nervously.

Then, the fever seems to break. Acapulco looks away first, grumbling about idiotic wenches and their goddamn place. Seaside kicks him under the table and looks at him meaningfully.

Acapulco shuts up for the remainder of the meal.

“So,” says Nice after Everest has cleared their plates. “You busy tonight?”

“No,” she replies a little too quickly, her tongue almost stuck to the roof of her mouth. Nice grins. 

“Want to show me that arm of yours in action?”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

Nice pins Edison up against her door, a knee between her thighs. She kisses gently, like a dreamy lover in August. Her lips move slowly across Edison’s, luxurious in their softness and utterly reckless in how they move. She grabs Edison’s wrists and pins them to the wall, digging her perfectly filed nails in. Nice holds them above her head, pushing them against the wall with her palms. She’s so, so close, and the dusky smell of her perfume is intoxicating.

Edison moans into Nice’s mouth, her hips jerking up for friction. Nice smiles against her lips, moving them to to the junction where Edison’s jaw meets her neck. She mouths there, then bites down gently.

Edison _screams_.

“Careful, love,” purrs Nice, tracing Edison’s jaw with her lips. “You’ll wake the whole hotel.”

“Fucking-- I don’t care, just _please_...”

Nice laughs as Edison writhes against her, desperate for more. She sucks on her neck hard, leaving dark purple marks in Edison’s creamy skin. Her teeth leave little pinpricks of sensation, and Edison is so aroused right now she could cry. She wants Nice, wants her mouth between her legs, using that beautiful tongue around her.

Nice moves back up to Edison’s mouth, letting go of her hands and moving them down to grip at her sides. She bites down on Edison’s lip, drawing it out before moving back in to slip her tongue inside. With her hands, she unbuttons Edison’s shirt and cups her small breasts. Nice swipes a hand over each nipple, rounding it over at they grow hard in the cool air. 

“God, Nice, please,” Edison pants, chasing her lips. She pushes her chest forward, Nice’s warm hands on her chest. She arches her back enticingly as Nice leans down, latching her mouth around a nipple. Nice sucks gently, and the warm, wet heat feels like a godsend. But now, Edison is practically aching down there. 

Edison grinds harder against Nice, moaning loudly. In response, she feels a slap on her thigh. Edison whimpers

Nice looks up at her through long eyelashes, an eyebrow raised. “You like that?”

Edison nods fiercely. “Nice, do whatever you want to me. Slap me, punish me, I don’t care. Just please, _please_ fuck me!”

Nice smiles. “But why would I want to punish you? You’re being so good for me, love, so perfect. So special, what I have here.”

Edison actually blushes at the praise, and tucks her head into her shoulder. “Jesus, Nice. Don’t talk to a girl like that if she’s not yours.”

Nice stands back up and takes a step away (Edison whimpers _again_ , God this woman does things to her). She cocks her head. “Oh? I was under the assumption that you were mine.”

Edison swallows. “I-- I am. Yours. I’ll be all yours, Nice, nobody else’s, just for you.”

Nice looks like the cat that got the canary. “Perfect.” She juts out a hip and places a hand on it. “Now. Before you get your reward, you need to do me a favor. Does that sound good?”

Edison nods. She’ll be good. She’ll be so good.

Nice tells her, “Good girl,” and Edison _melts_. She loves the praise, the pampering and affection. Maybe as a criminal she’s out for herself, but right now? She’d burn the world for Nice.

Nice reaches behind her and undoes the clasp of her dress. It slips from her shoulders like water, revealing a simple black lace bra and underwear stretched over her soft curves. She takes a few steps backward and sits on the bed, pushing her panties aside and spreading her long, tanned legs. “Well?”

Edison tentatively walks to the bed, shucking her pants and shoes and kneeling down in between Nice’s legs. She noses at her inner thighs, suckling kisses along the smooth skin. Nice lets out an appreciative moan. “Mmm. Perfect, love.”

Edison’s breath is warm on Nice’s thighs as she licks her way to Nice’s clit. It’s flushed and large, and Edison licks a long stripe along the sex before wrapping her lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves. She swirls her tongue around the hood of Nice’s clit, moving her lips to part her folds.

“Ah-- yes, _perfect_ Edison, perfect,” Nice moans, reaching down and tangling her fingers in Edison’s short, wild hair. He pulls lightly, and Edison makes an aroused noise around Nice’s sex.

She moves her tongue quickly across Nice’s clit, lapping up her warm taste, before slipping her tongue down and into Nice’s hole. Edison pulls her tongue in and out, wrapping around the folds and licking up and down. She feels Nice grip her hair tighter, her thighs tensing around her, before there’s a rush of warmth across Edison’s tongue. 

Edison licks up the rest of Nice’s come, trailing her tongue around her thighs and hips. She looks up hopefully, where Nice has still not lost her cool composure.

“Did I… was I good?” Edison asks. Nice smiles down at her, patting her hair gently.

“You were wonderful, love. You’ve more than earned your reward.”

Nice pats the bed next to her, and Edison eagerly gets to her feet and climbs up. She leans forward again, and Nice captures her lips in a dazzling kiss. It’s hot and brutal, yet Nice is so gentle with her mouth. She pushes Edison onto her back and spreads her legs, trailing one hand to rest on her thigh. With the other, she twists her fingers around Edison’s panties and pulls them off, tossing them onto the floor. 

She rubs her thumb on the hood of Edison’s clit, sending warm sparks up Edison’s spine. She bucks her hips against Nice’s hand as her other fingers circle her hole. They dip in for a moment, pulling out then pushing back in gently. “Please,” Edison whispers.

Nice adds another finger, pushing them in and crooking upward. Her thumb moves back and forth across Edison’s clit quickly, her lips ravaging her mouth. Her fingers pull out, pads dragging across the inside of Edison’s hole. They twist upward, then pump in and out faster. Edison moves her hips along with them, rocking back and forth against Nice’s hand. 

Nice drags her fingers in and out, pulling her lips away to mouth at the corner of Edison’s mouth. “You’re so beautiful like this,” she says, “so good for me, my perfect little Edison. All mine for using, and so soft and sweet and pliant. You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” breathes Edison, her orgasm building with each movement. “God, yes Nice. Faster-- please, I can’t--”

Nice speeds up her fingers, pumping them in and out so fast as Edison’s come spurts out around them. Her thumb gives one last push against Edison’s clit, and Edison is coming harder than she ever has before, screaming obscenities as warmth and pleasure rocket through her. 

Nice keeps moving until the last dregs of her orgasm are gone, her finger slowing to wind gently around Edison’s folds. The final few drops of pleasure fade away, and Edison slumps back onto the pillows, spent.

Nice wipes her hand on the blanket and crawls up beside her, folding her long limbs around Edison’s body like a starfish. “You were perfect,” she whispers, carding her dry hand through Edison’s dark hair. 

Edison sighs happily and snuggles back into Nice’s embrace. Her shirt is almost falling off her shoulders, and she shucks it off to wrap Nice’s arms around her waist. “Thank you,” Edison says softly, the cold of her metal arm pressing into her chest.

The room is warm, the blankets shucked up around them as the lights of the city trickle in through the window. Nice’s fingers make small circles on Edison’s waist as they fall asleep together. Outside, neon and chrome glare outside the Artemis, with a California breeze blowing through the dusty palms.


End file.
